


Sugar Baby Love (I Didn't Mean to Make You Blue)

by Anonymous



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: 50s Housewife Roleplay, Crossdressing, Hurt/Comfort, Light D/s, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Roleplay, Sub Drop, Under-negotiated Kink, a series of unfortunate errors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28269648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Loser wears a dress,” Dick had winked. Jason had snorted.“It’s not hard to convince you to crossdress, Dickie.”“Hey!” Dick had retorted. “I could win.” His grin had slid into a smirk. “Besides, this won’t be casual crossdressing. Loser wears a proper dress. A Stepford Wife, 1950s, classy ensemble. We’ll make it into a whole role play and everything.”“Whatever you say, Goldie.”(this is a repost of a deleted fic from overratedantihero)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140
Collections: Anonymous





	Sugar Baby Love (I Didn't Mean to Make You Blue)

**Author's Note:**

> i deleted this fic over a year ago when i orphaned my overratedantihero account, but an anon asked herecomesnaya about it, and I saw the ask. i generally do a lot of editing after I post, so I'm not sure if this is precisely the fic as published last time, but it is the version I have in my google drive. 
> 
> thank you to missnaya (ao3)/herecomesnaya (tumblr) for helping share this anonymously!! if you don't already follow her, you're missing out on quality fics & shitposting.

No guns, no escrima sticks, most bagged and tagged perps won. That was the bet. Jason wasn’t one to gamble, but Dick was bright-eyed and restless, and the evening was quiet.

The terms were secondary, Jason was perfectly content showing off without incentive. It was Dick who insisted on setting stakes, and Jason agreed so flippantly that he couldn’t even remember what he’d agreed to once he was standing, panting, over the last of the henchmen.

“To the victor goes the spoils,” Dick winked, after counting their conquests. “I’ll see you at home, then. Give me an hour?”

“What?” Jason asked, but Dick was already gone. 

As it turned out, a squabble amid the criminal underlings pulled Jason away for the rest of the night, and then well into the next day when the squabble rippled among their respective gangs. While Jason stood by his decision to allow the gangs to maintain their own leadership, beneath Jason, playing parent and mediator was exhausting, and Jason trudged through his and Dick’s front door reconsidering his entire business structure. 

Then, he saw Dick. 

“I missed you, sugar,” Dick cooed, pouring himself against Jason, a playful glint to his eyes. Jason blinked, level with Dick’s wink. Clicks on the tile floor as Dick shifted confirmed Jason’s assumption that Dick was wearing heels, but Jason couldn’t look away from Dick’s face, taking his time to soak in Dick’s shaped eyebrows, lightly lined eyes, and thick, mascara-fanned eyelashes. 

“Rouge,” Dick supplied when Jason dragged a knuckle across Dick’s tinted cheekbone. It wasn’t just rouge; Dick’s skin was soft with foundation, and his lips were full with a touch of gloss. 

Jason placed a hand on Dick’s hip and stepped back to take in the rest of Dick’s presentation. He sported a navy blue pencil dress with a sweet (if bright) yellow bow perched on Dick’s subtly cinched waist, the femininity of which complemented a square neckline. The fabric clung to unmistakably masculine musculature, but Dick’s posture was nearly demure, and Jason was rapidly losing oxygen. 

“Baby...? Jason asked, struck dumb. Dick beamed and pressed a kiss to Jason’s temple, resting a bracelet-adorned wrist on Jason’s shoulder. 

“I made dinner,” Dick murmured against Jason’s skin, pushing Jason’s jacket from his shoulders.

“Oh?” Jason said, heart rate inadvertently jumping. “You— you know, I don’t mind making dinner, Dick. You don’t have to worry about that.” Jason quietly sniffed the air for smoke or char. 

Dick pulled back to hang Jason’s coat on a hook that definitely wasn’t there before that night. “What kind of wife would I be without having dinner ready? You shouldn’t cook, you’ve had a long day of work. And you work so hard, let me do this for you.” 

Jason swallowed when Dick wrapped his lips around  _ ‘hard’ _ . That certainly wasn’t demure. But the accompanying smirk reminded Jason of the night before, of their gamble. 

_ “Loser wears a dress,” Dick had winked. Jason had snorted. _

_ “It’s not hard to convince you to crossdress, Dickie.”  _

_ “Hey!” Dick had retorted. “I could win.” His grin had slid into a smirk. “Besides, this won’t be casual crossdressing. Loser wears a  _ proper _ dress. A Stepford Wife, 1950s, classy ensemble. We’ll make it into a whole role play and everything.”  _

_ “Whatever you say, Goldie.”  _

Oh, he’d been serious. Serious enough that when Dick guided Jason to the kitchen island, the closest their apartment sported to a dining room given that their prescribed dining room served as the armory, there was a massive, neon green, round, and elegantly ridged  _ aspic _ of all things. It perched, positively radioactive, alongside what looked to be over-baked salmon. 

The aspic appeared to have lettuce, green onions, and celery suspended in precise layers that would have taken regularly checking in and adding ingredients while it set, an attentiveness perhaps better reserved for the salmon. 

Jason, a bit stilted, moved to sit down, but Dick was quick to touch his hip and frown. 

“No guns at the table, darling,” Dick murmured, sliding his hand down to Jason’s inner thigh to deftly unbuckle Jason’s holster. Jason jumped, startled enough that Dick undid the second holster just as easily. His fingers lingered long enough for Jason to blush. 

But then, Dick stepped back and took the holsters away, presumably to place them in the actual dining room, leaving Jason alone with the gelatin. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered to himself. 

“What was that?” Dick called from the other room. 

“Nothing!” Jason shot back. 

Despite the absurdity of it all, Dick carried the charade through dinner. He asked Jason about his day and chattered about sanitized family gossip. Nothing terribly controversial, although the conspiratorial edge to Dick’s tone while he recounted how Damian had snuck in another pet without Bruce’s knowledge made it seem so. It was all incredibly mundane, which made it all incredibly bizarre. 

In another life, the routine may have been relaxing. With their extracurriculars and complicated family politics it was rare that Jason could crack a smile over an anecdote without a bitter taste in his mouth, and lately, Dick was too buried in work for much more than takeout in the armory. But here he was, seated for a proper meal at their kitchen island, dressed up for Jason (for a bet, but for Jason too.) It made Jason feel warm and special, which is why it also made him  _ severely _ uncomfortable. He felt like he was playing a role without having seen any of his lines. 

And so, Jason was admittedly relieved when Dick shooed him away after dinner for a shower. He invited Dick to join, but Dick assured him he’d already showered and that, besides, he needed to do the dishes. 

“You never do the dishes,” Jason snorted. “On a good day, you leave them to ‘soak.’ Just leave them, I’ll get to them later.” 

Dick frowned, eyebrows knitting together. “Did I do a bad job on the house?”

Jason opened his mouth, but then he closed it. He glanced around. The apartment looked uncharacteristically neat, at least for a day on which Dick was home alone. 

“I mean, no. It looks fine,” Jason amended. Dick was still watching him like a kicked puppy. Jason frowned. “Never mind, do the dishes. I’ll be in the shower.” 

Then, Jason slunk off. From the kitchen, he heard the clattering of dishes and then a rush of water from the kitchen sink. He paused, in semi-disbelief, but then he heard Dick singing too and he shut the bathroom door. He didn’t want to hear Dick sing after the look Dick had given him. 

Jason was rinsing the conditioner from his hair when the shower door slid open behind Jason. Arms snaked around Jason’s torso and fingers danced down Jason’s skin to massage around Jason’s hip bones even as a warm, slick body pressed against his back. 

Jason hummed, tilting his head forward with the brush of lips on the back of his neck. 

“I thought you already took a shower?” Jason breathed, skin rapidly flushing. He chalked it up to the bathroom’s humidity. 

“I did,” Dick murmured, tracing the base of Jason’s flaccid cock with his fingertips. Jason grunted, and Dick rewarded him by dragging a knuckle along Jason’s velvety length. The touch was too little to draw anything more than a twitch, but Jason’s breath caught anyway. “I’m not here to shower.” 

“You here to wash my back, then?” Jason murmured, reaching out to adjust the temperature of the water. 

“Something like that,” Dick offered flippantly, before sliding to his knees and spreading Jason apart with one hand. He splayed the other against Jason’s back to encourage Jason to lean forward. Jason obliged, reaching out to brace himself on the misty shower tile and whimpering despite himself at the first swipe of Dick’s tongue along his perineum. 

Dick always ate Jason out with the same single-minded intensity with which Dick did everything, and like Pavlov’s dog, Jason was already whining by the time gentle flicks of Dick’s tongue against Jason’s fluttering entrance melted into a writhing, wet, wriggling penetration that sent Jason on his toes. 

Vaguely, the nagging, bat-and-League-conditioned part of Jason’s brain registered something stiff like thin plastic brushing against his backside when Dick cocked his head. But then the new angle paired with Dick’s imploring fingers as Dick nudged his prostate by massaging his perineum rendered rational thought mute and left Jason whining and scratching at wet tile. 

Finally ( _ finally, finally _ ), Dick relented long enough for Jason to turn around, to chase his orgasm through more  _ direct _ means, but he stopped short, flinching so hard he nearly slipped on the slick shower floor. 

“Dick, is that a shower cap?” Jason groaned as he appraised the ridiculous, cinched, ruffled, and dotted shower cap adorning Dick’s head. Despite the absurdity, Jason’s dick still twitched when Dick glanced up at Jason through his still-manicured eyelashes, his mouth just parted as he cupped Jason’s erection. 

“I told you, baby,” Dick breathed, lips brushing the thin, heated skin. “I already showered.” 

And then he wrapped his lips around the head of Jason’s cock and Jason decided he didn’t care about the shower cap anymore. 

After reducing Jason to a wrung-out puddle kept lucid only by the beating of the now-cold water, Dick slipped from the shower and left Jason to dwell in his confused arousal. Belatedly, he realized Dick never gave him the chance to reciprocate. 

Once Jason felt nearly human again, he turned off the water and more or less dried himself off before wrapping the towel loosely around his waist and stepping into the bedroom. 

He stopped short. 

Dick lounged in the bed, his back against a pile of pillows, now dressed in a long, pale blue, sheer robe over baby blue high waisted panties with lace paneling at the hips. Jason swallowed when Dick parted his knees.

Without further invitation, Jason shucked the towel to slide between Dick’s legs. He brushed the gauzy robe aside to trail open mouth kisses and nips from Dick’s collarbone down to the hem of his panties, his still-damp hair brushes goosebumps into Dick’s skin. He gripped the back of one of Dick’s thighs and squeezed it, encouraging Dick to drape the leg over Jason’s shoulder while Jason nuzzled Dick’s clothed bulge. 

Jason paused.

“Hey, babe?” He near whispered, “babe, do you want the...underwear on or off?”

“Hm?” Dick hummed, fingers threading through Jason’s hair so that he could massage Jason’s scalp. “I guess whichever you prefer. I’d like them off eventually.” 

Jason grunted. “No, I mean, do you want them off now, before they get, uh. Damp or something? I don’t want to get anything on them if they’re what you’re wearing for the rest of...this bet, or whatever.” 

Dick frowned and glanced down at Jason. Dick’s fingers paused and Jason winced as Dick’s shoulders dropped and he seemed to wilt. Jason cocked his head to press a kiss to Dick’s knee while he stroked Dick’s thigh. 

After a pause, Dick shifted with a huff and murmured, “do what you want to them, I have other lingerie,” before he settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes. 

A little perturbed by Dick’s reaction, Jason nevertheless made his choice. He sat up and slid Dick panties down from his hips. Dick bent his knee to untangle one leg so that the panties draped delicately around his other ankle, only for the panties to slip to the floor when his foot arched and his toes curled as Jason relaxed his jaw and sunk down on Dick. 

In the aftermath, with Jason’s head on Dick’s chest and Dick stroking the back of Jason’s neck with one hand, Jason found himself unsettled beneath the post-coital haze. 

This was all… too sincere. They’d made a bet, and Dick answered with an aspic. Unable to lay still, Jason wiggled out from under Dick’s ministrations and slid off the bed. 

Dick frowned, sitting up and wrapping his insubstantial robe around himself. Jason passed him his underwear, and Dick was quick to slide them back on. 

“Jason...?” Dick probed. 

“Are you in for the night, Dick?” Jason interjected with a faux-casual lilt, giving the bed a wide berth on his way to the dresser. He glanced about for Dick’s discarded day clothes, to put them away as he usually did, but the floor and furniture were clear. Jason opened their underwear drawer and raised his eyebrows at what appeared to be neatly folded girdles and garter belts next to tightly rolled hosiery where Dick usually kept his briefs. Dick wasn’t kidding. 

“You worked all day,” Dick replied. “I thought I’d stay home tonight, with you.”

When Jason glanced back, Dick was chewing his lower lip and watching Jason expectantly, eyes flicking from Jason to the drawer almost coyly. Jason frowned and snagged a pair of his own briefs and a soft, worn shirt from the before closing the drawer perhaps more roughly than intended. He retreated to the bathroom to redress, hanging up his towel and scowling at the wall for a spell. 

Eventually, he mustered up the will to return, but he hardly spared Dick a glance when he said, “I have some work to wrap up, I’ll be back for bed.”

“Oh,” Dick said to Jason’s back. “Okay.”

Jason holed himself up in the dining room and called Oracle. 

“Make it quick, Red Hood,” Barbara’s artificial voice chided. “I have operatives to monitor, and you’re not on the roster for tonight.” 

Jason didn’t waste any time: “Did Nightwing encounter anything weird in the past few days? Pollen, Tetch, nanotech, Meryl Streep, etc.?” 

“... I can’t imagine why you’d implicate Ms. Streep among Ivy or Tetch, but no. Nightwing has had the pleasure of a mundane week. His vitals have been normal, although he’s been sleeping less than average. His heart rate has been a little low, but he’s on a beta-blocker and he isn’t symptomatic, so I’m not worried about bradycardia. He’s also due a flu shot, please get with him on that. Otherwise, no, he’s perfectly fine.”

Jason grunted. “How’s my heart rate?”

Oracle sighed. “You still won’t let me implant my monitoring software, so I wouldn’t know, Jason. Invest in a Fitbit if you’re curious.” 

“Just making sure,” Jason grumbled. 

“Should I be concerned that you’re asking after N? I can deploy Penny One if necessary.” 

“No!” Jason blurted. “No, it’s nothing. I just. I get anxious, sometimes.” 

“Of course you do, he’s a menace. But he’s not completely opposed to discussing his health, he’ll listen if you tell him it’s impacting you.” 

Jason grunted noncommittally. “Thanks, O. I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Anytime, Red Hood,” Oracle said before cutting their connection. Jason tossed his phone aside and did a full inventory of their weapons, their weapons’ charges, and his ammunition before finally returning to the bedroom. 

By the time he did, Dick was already asleep, still on top of the sheets and with a book on Jason’s side of the pillow. Jason took a moment to soak in Dick’s parted mouth and smoothed forehead before sidling the blankets out from underneath him. Inevitably, Dick stirred as Jason tucked him in. 

“Jay?” Dick mumbled, eyelashes fluttering but not quite opening. He furrowed his brows and pat the bed vaguely in the direction of the book. “Read to me?” 

Jason picked up the book. _ The Martian Chronicles _ . Maybe Dick was host to an alien parasite. He set it on the bedside table. 

“Tomorrow,” Jason promised, sliding underneath the covers. Dick, even as heavy with sleep as  he was, nestled in close and tucked his head beneath Jason’s chin. “Go back to sleep.” 

Dick hummed, already halfway there.

Jason eventually fell asleep too, pulled into rest by Dick’s weight and steady breathing. 

The next morning, Jason woke up alone, and to the smell of cooking meat. Jason’s eyes shot open. Where there was a stove, there was a fire. Jason threw himself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to find Dick, in a red, buttoned shirt dress with a collared v-neck and a thick, white belt around his shaped waist. Thick strands of pearls clung to the column of his throat, and his hair was brushed back from his face in neat, thick waves. His makeup was similar to the night before, but with winged eyeliner that thickened his lashes. Jason swallowed, hard. 

Dick beamed, holding a plate in one hand and propping the other on his cocked hip. “I was worried you’d never wake up,” Dick mused. Jason glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It was 6:30 am. “I made breakfast.” 

Jason glanced at the bright red plate in Dick’s hand, a plate Jason didn’t remember owning. On the plate appeared to be two poached eggs, edges too crispy to bode well for the yolks, fried rings of some sort, and a slice of ham topped by a ring of pineapple. 

“Huh,” Jason said, for lack of better words. Dick’s grin wavered, and so Jason added, “The kitchen’s intact.” It wasn’t just intact, it was clean, cleaner than Dick ever left it even without having cooked an entire meal. 

Dick gave him a funny look but placed the plate on the kitchen island and turned to pour Jason a glass of cashew milk, the only food other than eggs that Jason knew to have been in the fridge the day before. 

Jason slid into a seat with a hesitant smile when Dick set the glass next to Jason’s plate. Dick turned his back again, so Jason grimaced before hesitantly nibbling at one of the fried rings. 

“Apple?” He asked as Dick settled in a chair across from Jason with his own plate and glass. Normally they ate while sitting, or standing, beside each other, but Jason couldn’t complain about the view, even if his skin was crawling with unanswered questions. 

“Mmhm,” Dick hummed, primly cutting and portioning his own food. Jason prodded his eggs. He was right, they’d been left on the stove too long, but he didn’t dare waste Dick’s effort and so he ate everything on his plate. 

Like the night before, Dick chattered away. This time about seasonal apple varieties. 

“I think I’m going to go see Roy,” Jason said, leaning against the counter while Dick rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. He’d tried to help, but Dick kept waving him away, and so Jason kept his arms tightly crossed lest Dick resort to physical means of restraint. 

“Tell Roy I say hello,” Dick chirped, voice a touch too high to be casual.

“Weird, but okay,” Roy said when Jason passed along the message. “Why didn’t he tag along? I haven’t seen him in weeks.” 

“He’s, uh, he’s acting off. Sort of? He lost a bet, but I think there’s something else going on,” Jason muttered, sinking into Roy’s couch cushion. He watched as Roy finished toying with his modified Roku. Roy had promised Jason a Twilight Zone marathon, but then the TV started smoking and now Jason was settling with Roy’s company instead. 

“Like he’s mad? He’s moody sometimes, you’ve got to let it roll off you. That, or apologize,” Roy said, wincing as the Roku sparked. Jason leaned forward and snatched a nonalcoholic beer off the coffee table. He popped the cap with his keys and took a sullen sip.

“No, like he’s been body-snatched,” Jason whined. “He made me dinner last night. And then breakfast this morning. But, like, the kitchen was clean.” 

“Oh no. How terrible,” Roy deadpanned. “Dude, seriously, get off it. Dick’s a slob, but he’s an attentive slob. He might be trying to help out around the house.” 

“In lip gloss?” Jason muttered into the mouth of his bottle. 

“Dude doesn’t like chapped lips. I don’t blame him, I split my lip last week and it’s still sore.” A home menu flickered to life on screen, but only for a moment.

Jason sunk deeper in the couch. “What about the high heels?”

Roy choked. 

“What-- what was the bet?” Roy spluttered, soaring Jason raised eyebrows as the smell of burning plastic wafted.

“We were cleaning out some clock-punchers, and he… pitched that whoever got the fewest confirmed bags should wear a dress. A, you know. A housewife dress. Post-war bullshit type dress. That kinda thing.” 

Roy blinked at him. “So you made a bet with Dick Grayson, presumably won, and then expected Dick Grayson to… what?  _ Not _ uphold his end of the bargain and then inevitably take it too far?” 

Jason opened his mouth. Closed it. Then he took a sip of his not-beer. 

“My advice?” Roy offered, returning his attention to his set-up. “Enjoy it while you have it. Let him crossdress and make you dinner. It’s good practice for that bat-shit you all do, and it’ll make him happy if you play along.” 

Jason didn’t immediately return home after Roy’s. He went to the grocery store instead, to make himself useful in the wake of Dick’s spontaneous homemaking. He texted Dick to ask what the apartment needed and if he needed anything too. Several minutes later, as Jason compared strawberries in the produce selection, Dick texted back. 

_ Dick: Nothing that I can think of. I went to the store yesterday, I left the receipt on the counter for you to look at.  _

That. That was odd. He and Dick had a joint account for household costs, but they’d never… checked after each other’s receipts. They both had access to the account statements, but they were also both adults with time-forged trust and their own, separate discretionary funds. 

Jason wracked his brain for an instance in which he may have ribbed on Dick, or commented on one of Dick’s purchases. Anything that may have made Dick feel uncomfortable spending. He couldn’t think of any, so he just texted back instead. 

_ Jason: lol you can toss that receipt; you don’t need me looking over your shoulder. _

Dick answered almost immediately. 

Dick: _what’s your budget? Next time I'll just take that much with me._

Jason was blocking the aisle now, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t scared of the suburban moms who shopped at Whole Foods, no matter how badly they wanted him to be. 

_ Jason: You don’t need to budget based on what I spend. I trust you.  _

_ Dick: And I trust you too, so just give me an allowance to spend.  _

_ Jason: Don’t be weird about this, spend whatever you want! _

Dick didn’t respond after that, and so Jason bought dish soap and fabric softener just to say that he contributed  _ something _ before going home. Dick greeted him at the door again, still in his dress and kitten heels, but his enthusiasm was tempered. 

“How was Roy?” Dick asked, tone a bit clipped. Jason frowned, hanging his coat on the hook and tossing his boots in the hall closet. Normally, he’d go and collect Dick’s discarded clothes and put them away too, but there weren’t any. The entire apartment appeared spotless from where Jason was standing. It was as if Dick had spent the entire day cleaning, without earning so much as a stray hair or a bead of sweat to mar his immaculate makeup. Even the baseboards and crown molding looked scrubbed clean. Dick took the plastic grocery bag from Jason and clicked off to put away the contents, leaving Jason to follow empty-handed. 

“Roy was good. He missed you today, he wants you to hang out more often,” Jason said. Dick was watching him expectantly, but Jason wasn’t sure what he wanted, and Dick’s imploring glances were putting him on edge. 

“That’s nice. I’m glad you and Roy had a good time,” Dick said lightly, after having placed the dish soap next to their other, halfway filled bottle of dish soap. Jason had the inkling that Dick wasn’t happy with him, but Dick was behaving too strangely to unpack and so he holed himself away to work in the bedroom. He expected Dick to leave, to go out and be social, or to join him in work, but Dick didn’t. Briefly, Jason thought he might’ve heard the vacuum, and he most definitely heard the smoke alarm (only briefly; it abruptly quieted before Jason poked his head in the kitchen to address it, and Dick had only cocked his head when Jason asked as if it’d never gone off at all.) 

And maybe Jason felt guilty, because he ate the evening’s aspic (a terrible tomato and basil monstrosity), and then read short stories from the  _ Martian Chronicles _ to Dick until his throat was sore. As silly as it was, Jason enjoyed having Dick’s head in his lap, even with Dick swaddled in pearls and crinoline. While he read, Jason rested a hand on Dick’s side just to feel the rise of fall of his chest as Dick breathed and, in turn, Dick tangled his fingers in Jason's t-shirt. 

“Baby, do you want to change?” Jason asked when Dick began to doze. 

Dick hummed noncommittally, but Jason stood and slid out from under Dick. He scooped Dick up and carried him to the bedroom. He laid Dick out on the bed, lifting Dick’s ankle to slip off Dick’s heels, kissing each tights-clad calf afterward. Then he unbuttoned Dick from his dress, sliding the dress and underskirt off and slinging them over a chair to be hung in the closet later. Dick obliged, lifting his arms and wiggling when Jason prompted, but even with Dick’s help, Jason wasn’t prepared for the layers. 

“Is that a corset?” Jason hissed, hands hovering over Dick’s bared undergarments. His hips and abdomen were wrapped in what appeared to be reinforced elastic, with straps that hooked into the lace thigh detailing of his nude tights. Dick snorted. 

“Of course not. It’s just a girdle,” Dick murmured. Jason frowned and reached out to unhook Dick’s stockings from the girdle garter straps. But then he tugged too hard and the strap ripped free, tearing a massive hole that extended into a run down Dick’s entire thigh.

Jason froze. Dick jerked up onto his elbows. 

“Uh,” Jason began.

“Did… did my nylons tear?” Dick asked, eyes wild. Jason opened his mouth and then closed it again. The now loose strap still dangled in his hand. 

“A little,” Jason winced. Dick’s lip quivered, and Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s-- it’s okay, Dick. You have more. I can go grab you another pair right now, they’re just tights!”

Dick fell back and pulled at his own hair, breath coming out faster as he squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s not-- You won’t-- Jason, I’m  _ trying _ .”

Jason leaned forward, grabbed at Dick’s wrist. “Dick, Dick, calm down. You’re getting worked up over  _ nothing _ . Dick, baby, this isn’t a big deal,” Jason assured, leaning forward and tugging away Dick’s wrist. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

Dick’s face was flushed, and his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. His chest heaved like he couldn’t get air, and he probably couldn’t, not with the bruising girdle pressed against his diaphragm. Jason cursed himself before scrambling to the bedside table and snatching the knife he kept taped underneath. 

“I am so sorry, I will buy you as many replacements as you want, but for now, try to suck in, okay?” Jason cooed, sliding his fingers between Dick’s skin and the girdle to fit the knife underneath. The angle was awkward, and Dick’s breathing was still too erratic to be safe, but the knife was sharp, and as soon as the blade sliced enough fabric Jason was able to tear the rest of it away. He also sliced Dick’s legs free, causing Dick’s tights to bunch, and then he abandoned the knife and tossed aside the shredded girdle to pick Dick up and crowd him into Jason’s lap. He rocked Dick and buried his face in Dick’s hair. 

“Sh, sh, sweetheart. Sweetheart, breathe. Deep breaths, try and breathe with me, okay?” Jason inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. It took several minutes, and for a brief moment Jason worried Dick might hyperventilate into a fever, but then his shoulders dropped, and his heaving chest slowed, and exhaustion left him limp in Jason’s arms. 

“You with me?” Jason asked, pressing a kiss to Dick’s temple. 

“Mmhm,” Dick hummed. Jason shifted to tuck Dick under his chin. 

“That’s good, you’re doing good, but I need verbal confirmation, okay?” Jason murmured, circling his thumb on Dick’s arm. Dick whimpered and mumbled something wetly. “One more time, I can’t hear you,” Jason coaxed. 

Dick lifted his head just enough to mutter, “I was  _ trying _ . I was trying to be good, I tried, I tried, I tried, I--” 

His breath began to pick up again, and so Jason interrupted, shushing and rocking and whispering, “You _ are  _ good, you’re so good. I’m so fucking proud of you. You did so good.”

Dick mumbled his response again, but Jason didn’t ask him to speak up this time. Not so soon. 

Jason held him like that, with firm arms and soft kisses to the top of his head, and when Dick relaxed again Jason maneuvered them so that they were lying down, with Dick tucked against Jason’s chest and Jason tracing shapes into Dick’s back. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” Jason asked when Dick began playing with a loose thread on Jason’s shirt. “That was a panic attack, what was the trigger?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dick said miserably, his voice raw. 

“No, no, I know,” Jason cooed, nuzzling his hair. “I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault, I just want to protect you from it happening again. If it’s too much we don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Dick muttered. “I just. I cleaned, and cooked, and curled my eyelashes, and you didn’t  _ notice _ . You weren’t even  _ around _ . And I know it was just a bet, but  _ I _ was into it and thought if I tried harder then maybe you’d come around, but then you wouldn’t even look at me and now my mascara’s all smeared,” Dick whimpered, warm, wet tears seeping through the fabric of Jason’s shirt. 

“Oh,” Jason said. “ _ Oh _ .” Realization dawned, shortly followed by cold, trickling horror. “Oh, baby, you went into subspace, didn’t you? And you  _ dropped _ . You dropped,  _ and I didn’t notice _ .” He tightened his grip on Dick as if he could shield Dick from his own obliviousness. 

“Kinda, I guess,” Dick managed to mumble from where he was pressed into Jason’s chest. “We didn’t do anything intense or anything.” 

“No,” Jason conceded into Dick’s hair. “But you threw yourself into a role on the trust that I’d be able to take care of you while you were in that role, and then I didn’t.” He closed his eyes. “But I did have sex with you and then leave you alone,  _ fuck _ .” 

Dick slid his hand under Jason’s shirt to flatten his hand against Jason’s back. “‘S okay. At least the apartment’s clean.”

“It’s more than clean, you did so good taking care of the house, baby,” Jason growled. Dick shuddered against him, and so Jason continued. “The house looks so good, sunshine. I don’t think it’s ever looked this good. And you did it in  _ heels _ , honey, you’re so good. Best wife.”

“... you liked the heels?” Dick chirped.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Jason promised. “And your dress and your tights and your makeup, and that wavy thing you did with you hair.” 

Dick snorted, shifting his head. The pearls around his neck crunched against each other and Jason winced. 

“You want to finish getting undressed?” Jason asked. “We can take a hot bath with that scented stuff you like. We can put a record on and complain about Eisenhower.” 

Dick laughed. It was a little wet, but it was still a laugh. “Whaddya make of his Interstate Highway System?” He joked, wiggling to loosen up Jason’s arms so that he could place Jason’s hand on his hip. He nuzzled Jason’s neck. 

Jason snorted theatrically. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

There was a brief moment of silence. 

“Can we try again?” Dick finally whispered into Jason’s skin. Jason squeezed his hip. 

“‘Course. But not tonight. Tonight we need to bathe and pick out a Doris Day record, and then talk about what we want out of this, okay?” 

“Billie Holiday,” Dick corrected, pushing away from Jason to sit up on his elbows. “I want a Billie Holiday record.” 

“Billie Holiday, then,” Jason promised. 

“And you don’t have to take off work, I want you  _ here _ when you’re here,” Dick continued, looking a bit like a disgruntled raccoon. 

“I can do that,” Jason conceded, kissing the tip of Dick’s nose. 

“And I got you suspenders, so I want you in those,” Dick pushed, shoving at Jason’s shoulder. 

“Happy wife, happy home,” Jason agreed, catching Dick’s hand and threading their fingers together. 

“I love you,” Dick added. Jason pulled Dick on top of himself and wrapped his free arm around Dick’s red, marked up waist. 

“I love you too.” 


End file.
